A Mother’s day letter

Momma,

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of you, sense you, miss you. You are forever in my heart. I want to thank you,
for all I have learned from you. Broken yourself, from all the abuse and neglect you suffered, I understand now that you
loved me the best way you knew how to. I want you to know that I understand, and I forgive you for the pain you caused me,
both in your life and in your suicide. I know now it was not intentional. I can honestly say that your life and death has bore
and is still bearing much fruit in my own life. I thank you for it. I choose to honor you everyday of my life, by being the best
mother I can be, and by learning from your life, and by choosing to not make the same mistakes you did. I can only hope my daughter does the same and learns from my life as well. I guess what I am trying to say is that while the world around us would say you weren’t a good mother, I am saying God has used your life for good in my own, and I choose to rise up and call you blessed

Happy Mother’s Day Momma.
I wish you you were here.

Love,

Your daughter

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Vigorous honesty and transparency

Im going to share with vigorous honesty here. I’m not going to write what I think sounds good or might get a like or a share. Just complete honesty and transparency.

I chose the name of this blog because it’s a key life lesson I learned during my years in Celebrate Recovery. Sharing thoughts, feelings, events with vigorous honesty and transparency. To completely take off the mask we all wear every day and just be real. Hiding absolutely nothing. It takes courage to be that vulnerable. To be known like that. It’s a risk, because when I’m vulnerable, I can get hurt. But it’s also healing and freeing to experience being completely known; all the good, bad and ugly exposed; and to be loved and accepted anyways. It literally saved my life.

Here I am 12 years of sobriety and living a life in love with Jesus, and yet I find myself dancing with the smothering darkness that depression brings. I’m fine during the day, at work, amongst people. I go over all the things that I’m going to do when I get home on the drive home, and when I finally get there I sit. And I weep. My heart is broken. I feel so alone. I’m so tired of hurting. I literally tell God that I hate my life.

I know scripture, I know the peace that surpasses all understanding I know how to fellowship with him, I know his presence. I’ve been there. I want desperately to get back there. I am so weary, so beaten down. There has been so much that has happened over the past 4 years and I need to let it out. Its like I’ve flipped this switch off on my emotions, when the pain gets to be to much, I just switch it off and stuff it all down. But I’ve got to let it out or it will kill me. One post at a time. This is my journey, my thoughts, my emotions, my mistakes, my experiences, my actions, my reactions, and if you choose to follow this blog, know that my posts are not politically correct or catered to anyone’s way of thinking. It’s just me. And while I will self reflect and continue to strive to become the woman Jesus created me to be, I will make no apologies for who I am nor will I accept any condemnation. I do, however, welcome honest and transparent sharing of your journey. Telling our stories can save lives.

I already know what I need to write about in my next post. Jesus give me strength and courage to do so.

FEAR

My sponsor loves acronyms. Because fear is ultimately a lack of trust in God, fear stands for False Events Appearing Real. I get it. I’ve had to overcome many fears throughout my journey. Most of them are lies from the enemy that I didn’t realize I was even believing. But this…

This is a real fear. The thing that I feel God is calling me to speak out on, it strikes fear in the depths of my soul. I have seen God fearing men and women jump on the bandwagon of hatred and condemnation without pausing to consider that this person is a soul that matters to God too, that the facts could possibly tell a different story than the one that is portrayed. And while these situations should not be taken lightly, it is still not our place to condemn so openly and freely. God will dish out his justice, yet there are certain “persons” that the world has labeled, things that our “Christian” society for some reason (I am generalizing here as a whole, because I sure don’t fit this mold) doesn’t think that the word of God applies to the accused or the accusers, because I’m telling you, the things I see are horrid, atrocious, offensive to the very nature of our creator. Who are we to decide what someone deserves? Does the word of God not say “I am the avenger”. I have seen lives destroyed over this, even after their time was served according to what our justice system dictated, even after true repentance. It feeds into the spirit of anger that seems to be permeating our society.

But let’s get back to fear. I am so fearful of this that I have turned off commenting on my posts for the time being because I don’t think my heart can handle the onslaught of ugliness that I know is going to come. Maybe because it hits too close to home. I have been asking God for years now why has this happened? And now, I know why. Because I understand all forms of addiction and how it can lead someone into a slow, gradual decent into some of the deepest, darkest pits of living hell shackled by unrelenting shame that no one would just wake up and choose; UNLESS THEIR MINDS ARE TRULY TWISTED, which, sadly, sometimes is the case. It has happened to me because he will always find a witness. Because he wants me to speak his truth and his love in this. He wants me to take a stand for unconditional love. Do you remotely understand or grasp what I’m trying to say here?

So with all this being said… reflect on what does “the least of these” mean to you vs. what it means to God. Is there anyone who is excluded from this? Think long and hard before you answer..

Rigorously

So, I started this blog with the right  intentions.  To share honestly and transparently.  And what I have posted (yes, I realize it has been quite some time) has been honest and transparent.  But this kind of sharing wasn’t what I really meant.  What I meant was to share with rigorous honesty, rigorous transparency.  The hard stuff. The things that matters, the stuff that exposes and leaves one vulnerable and takes courage and God’s strength to share, things that invokes passion and change. This is what I meant when I say sharing honestly and transparently. 

I have thought about this blog constantly since I began it, but I haven’t been very active on it.  I used to be active in a ministry called Celebrate Recovery that changed my life. It’s where I learned what rigorous honesty and transparency meant, and it’s not easy. It was during this time that I blogged regularly. I actually gained quite a following when I moved it from from WordPress to its own domain, which I now regret because I’ve lost all of those posts; however, I recently found the one I started years ago here on WordPress, before I moved it. Reading it took me back. It was rigorous, raw, real exhaustive stuff.  Pure exposing emotion. Hard stuff. Passion, life change. I laughed and cried re-reading this part of my journey. I do wish I had all of the other posts that I published, yet I am grateful for the ones that were preserved.  They spoke to me deeply. It’s like something that has been smoldering deep within my soul has been ignited, a flame burning so hot it’s ready to be unleashed. God tends to rock my world like that on the regular, when I get out of the way and allow him to use me as his vessel. So I’m going to take a step in faith and unleash the flame and let God turn it into a blazing fire if he chooses to do so.  I will share my deepest fears, passions, all of it, with rigorous honesty and transparency. 

Am I afraid? Absolutely terrified. But I’ll save that for the next post. For now, I’ll just share my old blog Confessions from Sasha so you can see some of the rigorous sharing I’m talking about.  

~Sasha

Amazing Grace

The words to this well known,  heart feltsong that is sang by followers of Jesus across the world moves me everytime I hear it. Over the years, each verse has developed it’s own meaning in my life as I have expereinced the many facets of God’s Grace in my life.

The first verse alone is enough to bring the tears of joy, gratefulness, thankfulness and through my soul into worship. Oh how I wept over my salvation, so thankful for his redemption, that I didn’t have to be what I had been. I was forgiven for all that I had done, how very, very sweet for my battered soul and bruising pain. How I fell deeply in love with my Jesus, the lover of my soul, the healer of all my wounds. The thought brings tears to my eyes and makes my soul sing to my savior. I remember when I would weep writing I stepped in the doors of church, so grateful for my second chance, to receive forgiveness that my battered soul longed for, to be with other’s that understood Grace and Mercy  and how desperate I was for it.  When is the last time you sat down in his presence and remembered what he delivered you out of? When was the last time you wept over your own salvation?

Amazing grace, How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come,
‘Tis grace has brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we’ve been there ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’ve first begun.

A bit of honesty…

So. I was recently laid off.  And I was devastated. I mean totally snotty crying, how could this happen to me devastated. I fell prey to the victim that lives inside of me, the one who wants to wail to the world “oh whoas me” and doesn’t want to put on her big girl panties and deal with it. 

Thankfully I serve a faithful God who didn’t let me stay in that mindframe of stinking thinking for too terribly long, lol. However, he showed me other things as well, like how I’ve accumulated so much stiff that I don’t need. I mean, I moved out here to the boondocks to live a simpler life, yet I’m still hanging on to my city way of spending instead of making do with what I have and giving more. I haven’t been a very good steward. 

And then he shows me how prideful I’ve been.  I’ve always had the corporate jobs where I’ve always had enough money to live comfortably.  And I never in a million years thought I had a pride issue, but loosing my cush little job that allowed me to work from home when I moved away and guess what? This isn’t Kansas, Dorothy. I no longer live in a big city where I can find employment making what I’m used to making and all the jobs I see on indeed.com I turn my nose up at.  What? Me? Doing that? Ouch. 

So here I am, broke and humbled. Making use of what I have. Willing and thankful to see what the interview in the next town over holds for me on Monday.  (They actually have a Wal-Mart folks!) 

Funny how when God answers a prayer, it’s never how I intended or imagined, but the lessons are rich and ever so fruitful! 🙂

July 17th

My mother would have been 62 today.  She committed suicide 8 years ago on July 25th. I remember after it first happened I walked into walmart where we had shopped together and It took my breath away.  From that point on, I had to avoid any place we frequented together.  It took me almost 5 years to come to grips with the trauma of it. Talk about a mind job. My mother was murdered but she was the murderer. It’s hard to wrap my mind around it. 

I have come a long way since then,  but the grieving continues.  I’m struggling this year with it. That deep, unexplainable sadness that overtakes me as I try to understand where it is coming from,  and then I remember what time of year it is.  I don’t think I will ever get used to it. 

It has changed me,  deeply,  in so many ways.  It’s made me extremely sensitive to others and how they feel.  I go out of my way to make sure people know they are loved,  wanted,  needed,  appreciated.  I also never realized just how much suicide is joked about on a daily basis, it makes my heart cringe to heart someone flippantly make a comment about killing themselves. I know they don’t mean any harm,  but I can garuntee you that if they ever lost someone to suicide,  they would never talk like that again.  I know I haven’t. 

So many unspoken words,  so much unnessicary  pain, questions left unanswered. So tonight,  I will grieve once more,  and I will pray for all those that are walking on this journey as well. And even though there is pain in the night,  I know that joy comes in the morning.  

Thank you for letting me share.